


The First Time

by kinksock22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/kinksock22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt at the kink meme: <i>Dean killed his first creature, a werewolf, when he was sixteen. Afterwards John dropped him off at the motel room with Sammy and left on another hunt immediately. I'd like Dean still pumped on adrenaline and Sam worried sick about what happened (and all the bruises he had, per Bad Boys) and all that energy turns into sex even though Dean had sworn they'd wait til Sam was at least 14. </i></p><p>
  <i>I just want passionate, desperate omg you almost died sex with Dean still trying to be gentle, and Sam being swept along (but completely consensual).</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Top!Dean only please.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

Sammy is sitting on the bed closest to the bathroom, chewing on his thumbnail when Dean opens the door to their room. His head jerks up, tip-tilted hazel eyes widening, darkened with fear and concern. He’s off the mattress in a heartbeat, crossing the room and throwing himself into Dean’s arms before Dean can even shut the door.  
  
“Oh my God,” Sam breathes, clinging to Dean, his face buried in Dean’s chest. “ _Dean_.”  
  
Dean dips his head and presses a kiss to the top of his little brother’s head, his arms wrapping around Sam in return, squeezing him briefly. He buries his nose in Sam’s hair, inhaling deeply to catch that sweet Sammy-scent – springtime and warmth and clean, little boy sweat – and closes his eyes. Dad and him have been gone for three days, tracking down a werewolf, and while it was so freaking awesome and exciting, Dean can easily admit – even if it’s only to himself – that he missed Sam.   
  
His body is still strumming with adrenaline and he can still smell the blood and smoke clinging to his clothes and he’s got more than a few cuts and bruises that ache when Sammy squeezes him tighter but he’s too freaking stoked to really care. It wasn’t his first hunt but it was his first kill. He took that bastard down on his own – silver-tipped arrow to the heart – and Dad was so freaking proud of him.   
  
Dean’s a little pissed that Dad took off right away on another hunt – Uncle Bobby called while they were heading back to the motel – and didn’t take him with but ultimately he’s glad to be back with Sam. Sure, his little brother is getting older and can mostly take care of himself but Dean doesn’t like being away from him too long, doesn’t feel right when he can’t see that Sammy is okay for himself.  
  
Sam’s hand hits a particularly sore spot and Dean can’t quite bite back a soft hiss. The next thing he knows, Sammy is pulling away from him, long, cool fingers brushing over his face, down his neck to his chest. “Dean?” he whispers, wide eyes starting to shine and fill with tears.  
  
“’m okay, kiddo,” Dean murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to Sam’s forehead.  
  
“You’re _hurt_ ,” Sam counters, nose wrinkled adorably, fingers shaking minutely where they’re pressing against Dean’s chest.  
  
“’m fine,” Dean assures. “Swear, Sammy. Just a few cuts and bruises.”  
  
Sam chews on his bottom lip, hazel eyes that can see right down into Dean’s soul studying him carefully. “Is it done?” he asks softly.  
  
“Yup,” Dean nods, perking up with pride. “Took the fucker down myself.”  
  
Sam blinks owlishly for a second, completely quiet. Dean honestly doesn’t know what to expect. Sam hates hunting, hates moving and being left alone, hates worrying that the next monster will be the one to end up taking one of them out. He doesn’t understand yet that they’re heroes, all three of them. He’ll get it. Dean’ll make him understand one day.  
  
Where he’d expected anger or indifference, Sam surprises him by gently grabbing both sides of his face then rocking up onto his toes and smashing their lips together. Kissing him back is automatic at this point – even if they’ve only been doing _this_ for a few months – but he can feel the desperation bleeding off Sam in waves, the harsh little breathes panting out through his nose as he roughly shoves his tongue into Dean’s mouth, none of the finesse that Dean patiently thought him.  
  
Dean pulls away, fingers of both hands tangling in Sam’s messy mop of chestnut-colored curls. “Easy, Sammy,” he murmurs.  
  
“I was _so_ scared,” Sam whispers, half a whine, his voice breaking. He knew that Dean was going to be more active in this hunt, heard Dean and Dad talking about it before they left. “And you’re _hurt_ ,” Sam repeats, chin tilting up, that petulant little brother glitter in his eyes, the clench of his still-soft jawline.   
  
Before Dean can respond, Sammy is kissing him again, all insistent lips and messy tongue and grabby hands, slender fingers shoving at his leather jacket and over-shirt. Adrenaline floods Dean’s system, same as on the hunt but a slightly different flavor, and he shoves one hand under the back of Sam’s hand-me-down, ratty t-shirt, palm splayed wide across the warm, sweaty small of his back. His other hand tightens in Sam’s hair, tugging just slightly on the strands and Sam mewls into the kiss, clinging to Dean’s shoulders, nearly climbing him like a fucking tree.  
  
Dean reaches down with both hands and grabs Sam under the barely-there swell of his little ass and lifts. Sam’s legs wrap around his waist and he bites at Dean’s bottom lip, fingers tugging on the short hair on the back of Dean’s head. He loves that Sammy is still little enough for him to lift and carry around like this, knows that won’t always be the case. Sam’s hands and feet are huge, his arms and legs long despite how short he still is, like a puppy that hasn’t grown into its limbs yet. Dean knows that someday Sam won’t be this tiny, that he’ll grow up big and tall and strong, like him and Dad. But while he can still do it, Dean takes advantage.  
  
Sam’s skinny hips rock against him, the line of his cock pressing against Dean’s stomach. Dean’s hands dig into Sam’s ass as he walks them toward the bed Sammy was sitting on when he came in and he drops down onto the mattress, keeping Sam in his lap.   
  
They keep kissing, pulling away just long enough to get both their t-shirts off. Sam’s thin chest and his soft belly – still slightly rounded with the last of his baby fat – are heaving and he squirms closer to Dean, whining and wriggling, trying to get some friction on his trapped dick.  
  
Dean grabs his hips, fingers curling into the soft, worn cotton of his sweats, and stills the incessant movement. Sam whimpers and pulls away from the kiss, his lips slick and red and swollen, cheeks flushed a pretty petal-pink and Dean’s cock gives a powerful twitch, pressing against his zipper almost painfully.  
  
“Dean,” Sam pants, hands shoving between them, fingers fumbling with his zipper. “Want it, c’mon.”  
  
“Sammy,” Dean frowns, a warning in his tone despite the gritty-gravely roughness of arousal. They’ve talked about this. He might be fine with screwing around with his kid brother, jerking off and blowing each other and rubbing together, kissing and touching and all the things that he really _shouldn’t_ be doing, but he won’t cross that line. At least not until Sam is older. He doesn’t try to pretend it’ll never happen, he’s definitely no saint – furthest from it actually – and he knows he’ll end up buried balls deep in his brother but not when he’s twelve fucking years old.   
  
“ _Dean_ ,” Sam repeats, fingers dipping into the open zipper of his jeans, curling around Dean’s hard cock – he hadn’t even realized that little shit had gotten them open. “Please. Need it. Need _you_.” He looks up at Dean, puppy eyes in full effect, and Dean knows he’s a fucking goner. Those eyes and that whine and those words… Dean can’t resist giving in if Sammy _needs_. He’s never learned to say no to Sam. It’s just not a power he possesses.   
  
Dean groans, Sam’s clever fingers rubbing at the sensitive nerves beneath the head, his thumb slipping over his slit, smearing through the pre-come already leaking from him like a busted pipe. Sam grins at him, all angel-innocent and mischievous little brother, and tightens his fist, working as much as he can of the top half of his cock. Dean reaches down and palms Sam’s tented sweats in response, pressing against the spine of his dick, pushing it against his groin. Sam keens and rocks his hips forward, leans in to kiss and suck and lick beneath Dean’s jaw.  
  
Dean’s eyes squeeze closed and he tilts his head to the side, giving Sammy all the room he wants. Sam’s teeth scrape across his thundering pulse, fingers fluttering over his sticky-wet cock-head and Dean growls low in his throat, wraps one arm around Sam’s lean waist and flips him onto his back. Sam’s looking up at him with wide, lust-blown hazel eyes, blinking slowly, one hand still shoved down the front of his jeans.   
  
Dean pulls back enough to rip Sam’s sweats down and off, cock twitching almost violently when he sees that Sam isn’t wearing anything beneath them, his cock pink and hard, his still smooth, hairless balls full and already pulled tight up against his body. Sam flops his legs open, tilts his hips up and Dean feels that same shivery rush of sensation, adrenaline and fear and excitement. They’re gonna do this. _He’s_ gonna do this.   
  
Leaning over the edge of the bed, Dean digs through his duffel one-handed, pulls out a bottle of lube. Sam’s chewing on his already bitten-red bottom lip, gaze following his every move intently. He searches Sam’s eyes for a few long moments, sees nerves but not fear, mostly though just sees love and want and that little brother hero worship that he’s seeing less and less of the older Sammy gets.   
  
He palms Sam’s hipbone, leans down to suck a messy kiss on the soft inside of his thigh. Sam sighs softly and opens his legs more, showing off the shadowed cleft of his little ass. Dean forces his hand steady as he slicks up his fingers, rubs the tips over the furled rim of his brother’s hole. Sam squeezes his eyes closed, hard little cock twitching, his thigh muscles flexing and straining. Dean’s done this before while blowing Sam, just teasing wet fingers around his hole, applying just a hint of pressure but never breaching the tight muscle.  
  
Inhaling deeply, Dean pushes, the tip of his index finger slipping just barely inside Sam. The tight, wet heat is overwhelming already and his jeans feel like they’re nearly strangling his erection. Sam gasps, eyes flying open wide and frantically locking with Dean’s.  
  
“You okay, baby boy?” Dean rasps, even as he slowly, carefully pushed in deeper.  
  
“ _Dean_ ,” Sam breathes, whole body shaking. “Oh God…”  
  
“Sammy,” Dean growls. “Answer me. You okay?”  
  
“Y-yeah,” Sam stammers. “More. Keep goin’.”  
  
Dean smirks and dips down, kissing Sam wet and messy as he sinks his finger in more. Sam tilts his hips down, pushing against Dean and he’s tempted to pull away and scold him. But Sam just moans, hands curling around Dean’s biceps, fingers digging into the muscle.  
  
He’d learned early on that Sam is Goddamn insatiable but he never really expected this. He tries to go slow, to ease Sam into it, but Sam has other ideas. He pushes back against Dean’s hand, demands breathlessly for more, faster, harder, twists his hips and fucks himself down on Dean’s fingers. Leave it to his stubborn, overachieving little brother to push when it comes to this as well.  
  
Dean’s got three fingers buried to the knuckle inside Sam, his brother panting and clawing at him, sweat slicking his whole body, his cock looking like it’s ready to burst. He twists his wrist, pads brushing over Sam’s inner walls, and Sam gasps, back arching off the mattress.   
  
“Fuck,” Sam blurts out, barely a whisper, ears turning pink. Dean bites the inside of his jaw to keep from laughing. Sam doesn’t curse much but when he does it’s always adorable. “Right there, Dean. Do that again.”  
  
Dean feels along Sam’s walls, searching for that same spot. When he finds it Sam nearly chokes on a broken moan. He rubs over that sweet spot again and again, eyes wide as he watches Sam’s cock jerk. “More,” Sam moans, nearly a sob. “Please, Dean. Now. Want you inside.”  
  
Dean clenches his jaw and pulls his fingers away, kissing Sam in silent apology when he whines. He quickly shoves his jeans and boxer-briefs off, sighing softly when the pressure over his cock is released. He leans over a grabs a condom, ignoring the bitch-face and wrinkled nose Sam shoots him. He’s _always_ used a rubber but he isn’t willing to take a chance when it comes to Sammy. He’ll get tested the next time he can and then he’ll think about ditching them.  
  
He hooks Sam’s knees over his elbows, rocks his brother’s hips up and reaches down, lines himself up, head of his latex-covered cock kissing against Sam’s loosened, slick hole. Sam’s breath hitches when Dean pushes forward, eyes widening then slamming closed, fingers digging white-knuckle tight into Dean’s shoulders. Dean grits his teeth and stops, just the tip inside Sam. He’s so _tight_ and hot and wet, even through the condom and Dean feels like a virgin all over again, like he’s gonna bust his nut before he even gets all the way inside.  
  
Sam’s trembling, eyes squeezed closed and for a few eternity-long seconds, Dean worries that it’s just too much, that he’s too big for Sam’s little body and he’s going to hurt him, going to rip him open. “Breathe, baby,” Dean whispers urgently, dropping one of Sam’s legs, his hand shaking as he pushes the sweat-damp hair off Sam’s forehead. Sam inhales slowly, exhales shakily and Dean smiles, leans down to brush a kiss to his lips. “Look at me,” he commands softly. Sam’s eyes flutter open, shiny with tears. “You okay, little brother?”  
  
Sam inhales and exhales again and Dean feels the vice-like pressure start to ease. “’m okay,” Sam whispers. Dean kisses him again, slow and wet, and Sam’s fingers unclench. “Keep goin’,” Sam adds when Dean pulls away again.  
  
He tries to go slow, just like when he was fingering Sam open, but Sam is a determined little shit, especially when he wants something, and pushes back against him, forcing him in deeper and faster. He stops once he’s buried to the hilt, both of them panting, blinking owlishly at each other. Holy _fuck_. This feels like nothing he’s ever experienced, so much better than any sex he’s ever had with any girl, and they haven’t even really started.   
  
“Dean,” Sam breathes, reaches up with one hand, fingers tracing over his cheek, his lips, the bruises and cuts he can feel on his face. “You’re _inside_ me,” he whispers.  
  
Dean smiles, turns his head to kiss Sam’s fingertips. “I know, baby boy,” he whispers back. “Feel so good, Sammy.”  
  
“Can you… Can you move?” Sam asks softly.  
  
_Not_ moving had been one of the hardest things Dean’s ever done. He draws his hips back then pushes in again, once then twice, slow and steady, then falls into a rhythm. For a few long moments, Sam just lies there, staring up at him, eyes full of awe, then he slowly picks up Dean’s rhythm, hips jerking up to meet each thrust and it gets a million times better.   
  
He shifts his hips just slightly, obviously brushing that special spot inside Sam. His brother moans harshly, throws his arms around Dean’s shoulders and clings to him, legs wrapping around his waist. “More, Dean,” Sam whines, blood-warm face buried in Dean’s neck.  
  
Dean picks up the pace, clenching his jaw as he fucks into Sam harder and faster. “Like this?” he grits out, sliding his arms beneath Sam’s shoulders, holding him close against his chest.  
  
“Deeper,” Sam breathes.  
  
Dean nods and buries his face in Sam’s hair, pushing in deep, making sure to keep the angle just right to hit his sweet spot. The headboard bangs against the wall and the bedsprings squeak and Sam is making the most beautiful, nearly-wounded sounds in the back of his throat.  
  
“Feel good, baby boy?” Dean asks softly, kissing the side of Sam’s face.  
  
“So good,” Sam moans.  
  
“You gonna come for me?”  
  
Sam mewls and clings tighter, hips losing all rhythm, just jerking erratically up against Dean’s. Before he can let go and reach down between them, Sam’s whole body goes stiff and his inner muscles flutter and clench around him a split-second before Sam cries out, blunt, bitten-down nails clawing at Dean’s shoulders. The nearly nonexistent space between their stomachs is smeared with Sam’s thin, watery little load and Dean can’t fucking believe that Sammy came just from this, just from Dean fucking him. It’s beyond fucking hot.  
  
Dean pushes in deeper and groans, his cock jerking nearly painfully as he comes a few moments after his brother. It feels like it lasts forever, cock pulsing wetly into the condom as Dean keeps thrusting sloppily, working them both through it.  
  
He has just enough presence of mind to reach between them and slip off the condom, tossing it onto the floor to deal with later before rolling off of Sam and onto the mattress. Sam doesn’t let go – of course he doesn’t – so he ends up spread out across Dean’s chest, hair a sweaty, messy tangle in Dean’s face. He wraps his arms around Sam’s waist and kisses the top of his head, smiling tiredly when Sam looks up at him, the sweetest little sated smile reflected back at him.  
  
They’re both sweaty and their come is starting to dry and Dean is still filthy from the hunt. They need to get up and shower then crawl into the clean bed. But Dean doesn’t want to move. Not yet. The adrenaline has faded and he’s warm and sated and a little sleepy. And Sam’s slight weight feels perfect against his chest. He reaches up and grabs a handful of Sam’s hair, leans up to kiss him, quick and dirty, before tucking Sam’s face under his chin.


End file.
